Fields

birds are falling from the sky again

they started doing this yesterday

i watched them all day

and all day today

falling from the sky

the trees

the roof edges

they wouldn't stop

i thought they would

so i picked them up at first

put them in a bag

thinking maybe they were in deep sleep

but they kept falling

hitting the ground

the roof

the windows

and never getting up

a lifeless collection

surrounding my house

my property reaches

further than i can see from my house

and what i see

through the window by my kitchen

is black spotting the ground

in this strange dusk

amongst the dead leaves

and the dark purple of a dying day

random patches of black

forming slowly over the earth

the smell of wet dirt

and boiled skin

squeezes through the window panes

when will they stop doing this?

the night will settle in soon

and soon i will

be on the floor

reaching for sleep

while my roof spontaneously thuds

the first night was bearable

but i fear this night

like a nightmare you know will visit

no matter what

i hope they get some rest

the morning

rose like a tide

and with it

the destruction

the display

i cannot explain

and I have become desperate

how will i walk this ground

i hear the crunching already

i don't know

where are my boots?

and my jacket?

the light in this room is dim

will the sun ever appear?

the door handle is cold

the air outside

is stale

oh this is unbearable

to step on birds

but there is no other way

i must reach the end of my property

the end of my land

the surface is soft

i try not to look down

at the death under my feet

under my souls

and yet they keep falling

joining more of their kind

dead before they even unite

the sounds around me are muffled

the rustling of my hoody

that covers my head

puft

the sound they make when they hit the ground

the sky is marble gray through the leafless branches

but i'm afraid to look up

just incase…..

a falling bird to the shoulder

is a painful thing

it's like being punched by mother nature

the great bully

i look back at my house

smoke rising from its stone chimney

i shouldn't have left that fire

ambering like that

my tiny house

from far

it's shape disguised

within a splash and spatter

of overlapping limbs

this forrest is dark

darker than usual

i finally reach the bottom of the hill

where the creek lightly flows

a small creek

a humble creek

a consistent creek

flows through all seasons

and separates my land

from the rest of the world

i pause

and then keep on

gosh

i almost slipped on those pebbles

i've become weak

it seems

too much sitting inside

too much waiting

that was a big bird

right to the neck

almost lost my balance

the narrow creek ends

my boots hold up

i step over the tiny bank

onto the other side

using my hands to keep balance

over the fallen tree

there i stand straight

and looking ahead of me

in front of me

the ground is new again

dead leaves instead of dead birds

no more falling foul

the air here

it's clearer

what is this?

the creek gurgles behind me

it's speaking to me

or is it laughing?

i turn around to face my land

over the water

the carpet of black feathers

birds now falling like heavy black snow

and down the line

the movement of water

i look

a clean separation of black

and brown

my land

and the rest of the world

i tell you

running through

and over

an ankles worth of stiff little dead bodies

covered in black and brown feathers

sometimes tripping

your fall absorbed

it is not an easy activity

you breath harder than usual

sucking in

spitting out

feathers

being slapped

pounded on the back

on the head

weezing like a mule now

but i must get back

and quick

up the hill

they're falling harder

the air’s getting thicker

the smells getting worse

my chest burns

the birds pile up against my house

like a black blizzard

on my window sills

heavy

dripping off the roof

i reach the door

the handle is freezing

i sweep the heavy debris with my foot

and force the door open

it is colder inside

it seems

i slam the door behind me

i peel my jacket off

and my boots

i rip violently from my feet

pants off

socks off

underwear

shirt

throw in the fire

i'm breathing so hard

i feel dizzy

to my knees i fall

exhausted

my brain still sprinting

my hands still shaking

how long have they been doing that?

breath

out

ok ok

calm

what to do?

first

is this really happening?

slowly

i twist my neck and straighten my back

i turn to look up and out the window

yes

it is

it is really happening

i'm not supersticious

but

could this be

what it could be?

should i keep waiting

like i was told

while slowly being swallowed by blackness

down to the depths or who knows?

should this be the end of me?

i don't want to die here

i don't want them to die here

that wasn't part of the deal

they must be scared down there

i know what i must do

clarity

or desperation

i rose from my knees

shoes

shirts

jacket

socks

knife

bag

rush

hush

pack

where's my flash light?

kitchen cupboard

ready

one more thing to do

i threw the rug aside

there

the latch to the square door in the floor

that leads to the shallow basement

dam hands

still shaking

i don't remember it being so big

so heavy

the joints creek

a warm breath rises from the open mouth

the smell of desperate bodies

i reach for the flash light in my back pocket

attempting to click the switch i drop it

it sounds heavier than it is

dam hands

one step

down

two steps

down

slowly

not to alarm

it is warm like tongue in here

and so quiet

the figures appear at the end of the beam

dirty faces

looking into the portal passing over them

they blink and squint

confused

tired

static

hands rise

faces contort from the exposure to light

young faces

old faces

men

women

eventually my eyes adjust

to see the small gathering before me

below me

i inhale deeply

taking them and their smell into my lungs

'we must leave,

and we must leave NOW'